


Snow

by Saturn_the_Almighty



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Cursed RvB Discord Inspired, Gen, Grimmons, Missing Secene from s8, Present Tense, The Sidewinder Incident™, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 08:19:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14951031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturn_the_Almighty/pseuds/Saturn_the_Almighty





	Snow

Grif's breathing is loud and labored and he's gripping Simmons' legs like they're the only thing keeping him from slipping away again. He's shaking. Shuddering, even. Simmons can make out only a few muttered words as Grif hangs his head. He stays like that for a minute, his hands firmly on Simmons' thighs and his shoulders tense.

Simmons itches to reach forward and pull off Grif's helmet. He needs to _see_ him, feel his warm breath against the cold air. Grif's radio is silent. The rest of his team is silent. He doesn't dare turn his head to see where they've gone. All he can see is orange armor, dusted with snow and the Meta's blood.

Simmons lets a breath out slowly. He reaches up and unseals his helmet, breathing in the crisp air. It encroaches upon his face slowly, the cold. Little by little he loses the warmth ~~like when he felt Grif slipping out of his grasp~~. Grif is still shaking.

Simmons gently pulls Grif's helmet off his head, letting his hair fall in matted curls over his shoulders. Simmons swears he hears a sob escape Grif's mouth. Hunched over, hiding his face, eyes on the ground, he's the epitome of pitiful and vulnerable.

But all Simmons sees is someone who needs a hug. He reaches for Grif's shoulders and pulls him close, ignoring the sharp points of armor but making sure the only thing Grif feels is him. Because he almost died and to Simmons that's terrifying. To Grif, it's a hairline fracture in his luck.

Neither of them say anything for a second but screws his eyes shut and buries his face in the crook of Simmons' neck. His breath is warm. Simmons lets Grif take his time. Lets him steady himself. Neither of them have come down from their adrenaline highs. Simmons can still feel the thump of his artificial heart in his ears and Grif's fingers still shake when he lets go of Simmons' legs to cover his face.

Grif sits back, puts a foot of space between them and Simmons feels cold again. Grif hides his eyes and his mouth behind gloved hands but he tries to speak, tries to give Simmons even one ounce of reassurance. "I-" Grif starts, his words sounding muffled and full of iron. "I'm- okay. I'm okay. I didn't die, it's fine," he repeats, over and over.

Simmons plainly hears the waver in his voice, the way he's telling himself as much as Simmons. "And we won. We're fine. We're going to be fine. It's okay. I'm okay. I didn't die. I didn't fall. I didn't lose my grip and fall thousands of feet to-" He chokes on his words, a strangled sob getting caught in his throat. Grif digs the palms of his hands into his eyes until he sees stars.

"I'm so afraid of losing you."

Simmons is dead silent. He can hear Grif trying to get ahold of himself, counting 'one, two, three, four, five' and breathing in then out. In then out. In then out. In then- in. In and in and in and- "Grif!" Simmons shouts. He grabs Grif by his wrists and pries his hands away. "Look at me," Simmons says. Grif refuses to meet his gaze,

"Grif, look at me. Breath out," Simmons says again, more gently. Grif gives in and opened his eyes. He lets out a breath and Simmons feels his arms relax. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. Simmons slowly let's go of Grif's hands. "What for?" he asks. ~~I'm the one who couldn't hold on.~~

"Because I know this is the worst time and I'm not in my right mind but I was so scared that I would never get to see you again," Grif mumbles. "And it's selfish because if I died you'd be the one left to pick up the pieces." He pushed the hair out of his eyes and tucked it behind his ear. "But I don't want to die. And I don't want to leave you, and I don't want to lose you but I'm so afraid of falling, Simmons, I'm terrified and-"

Grif stops. He looks at the snow-covered ground between them, the blood stains in the soft white. His vision starts to blur. "Simmons, I might die." Simmons doesn't want to admit that it might be true. "And you might die. We could both die at any moment." Grif wipes his eyes clumsily with his glove. "And I regret so much," he admits.

"I regret not taking Kai to try out for ballet when she was little and not telling my grandma how much I care about her and I hate this piercing I got when I was seventeen and I need you to know how much I love you Simmons because I might not get to tell you."

Simmons sits, his eyes wide, for far too long. He flicks his eyes over Grif’s face. He suddenly feels hot, despite the frigid temperature. They make eye contact for a second, two sets of mismatched eyes locked together, snowflakes drifting between them. “Grif,” Simmons starts, before he even knows how he's going to finish.

“Grif, please don't do this. Not to me, not to yourself.” He reaches out to put a hand over Grif’s shaking ones. “You almost died just now and that's scary but statistically, this soon after a traumatic experience your brain is still messed up and maybe you shouldn't say things like that because you're definitely going to regret it-”

Simmons shut his mouth abruptly. “What I mean is maybe take some time before you say something like that?” he offers. Grif nods sluggishly. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Maybe I'll come back in a few hours and tell you again.” He stands up, his legs weak, and starts to walk away, feet dragging in the deep snow.

Simmons watches him leave, hyper-aware of the loud thumping in his ears. He waits a solid five minutes before following and doesn't say a word when a few hours turns into days and days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months and then years and suddenly they've both forgotten about the small conversation they had on the edge of a cliff.


End file.
